


her hardest hue to hold

by pied_pollo



Series: Nothing Gold Can Stay [2]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Drunk Malcolm, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Episode: s01e13 Wait and Hope, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gil Arroyo Needs a Hug, Good Parent Gil Arroyo, Grief/Mourning, Last Dates, Malcolm "L'Oréal" Bright, Malcolm Bright Gets a Hug, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death, References to Depression, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Terminal Illnesses, aesthetic title strikes again, and a new car, because he's worth it, forever in our hearts, i love jackie arroyo and she needs more fics, makes a reappearance, malcolm should not be trusted to drive, mild sexual reference once, rip the LeMans, sorry malcolm, well more like no dates oof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25171960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pied_pollo/pseuds/pied_pollo
Summary: A car like the LeMans has a lot of history.
Series: Nothing Gold Can Stay [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824919
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39





	her hardest hue to hold

The first time he came to their house, it was three months after The Surgeon’s arrest. Gil opened the door one rainy day to find him, soaked and shivering, on their doorstep.

“Hey, kid,” Gil said. “Malcolm, right?”

The boy nodded, eyes trained on the ground.

“What are you doing out by yourself in the rain?”

Malcolm didn’t answer him. He looked up slowly, and Gil gave him a small smile. But then suddenly, Malcolm burst into tears, and Gil didn’t know what to do.

“You okay, kid?” he asked awkwardly, but Malcolm just continued to cry, hard sobs wracking his body. Gil rocked from one foot to the other, unsure. He wasn’t very good with kids--that was more Jackie’s thing.

As if on cue, Jackie came running to the door at the sound of Malcolm’s sniffles. “Is that a kid?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s the--” Gil cut himself off. Introducing Malcolm as ‘The Surgeon’s son’ probably wasn’t a good idea. He saved it: “--it’s Jessica Whitly’s son.”

“Let him in, then!” Jackie scolded, grabbing Malcolm by the shoulders and leading him inside. “Get a towel, too,” she added, after taking in his miserable state.

Relieved to have been given a job, Gil hurried upstairs and came back with a large bath towel, which Jackie quickly wrapped around Malcolm. She crouched down to face him and clicked her tongue sympathetically.

“Oh, you poor thing, you’re freezing,” she cooed, rubbing her hands up and down his sides. “What brought you to our house in this storm?”

Gil bit his lip. He forgot to tell Jackie that Malcolm was more-or-less mute, but surprisingly, she didn’t seem phased by his lack of response.

“Is it home?” she asked.

Malcolm nodded.

“You don’t want to be there?”

Malcolm shook his head and gestured to his book.

“You left school?”

A nod.

“You can’t get home?”

Another nod.

“Okay. Is it because it’s raining? Are you scared of thunder?”

No. Malcolm shook his head.

“Are you able to get home?”

No again.

“Is it physical or emotional? Squeeze my hand once for physical and twice for emotional.”

One squeeze.

“Are you locked out of your house?”

Yes. Malcolm nodded, and a tear slipped down his face. Jackie brushed it away before taking both his hands in hers.

“Why don’t we give you a ride home and call your mom?”

A nod. Malcolm pursed his lips together and looked up at Jackie gratefully. She smiled.

“I’ll take you to the car.”

* * *

As Malcolm grew older, he came by the house more and more often. Gil found himself feeling a small sense of obligation for the kid, seeing as he didn’t have a dad around. He found himself acting as a surrogate father of sorts, which was kind of ironic, but Malcolm was touch-starved and desperately craved a male mentor that Gil ended up playing the role of. He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it, though.

Sometimes, however, he did not enjoy it. Sometimes, Malcolm put himself into bad situations and Gil wound up as a victim of his terrible, terrible ideas.

Like driving the LeMans.

“It’s _fine_ ,” Malcolm reassured him. “I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Gil muttered.

“I promise I won’t wreck your car,” Malcolm insisted, holding out his hand. Gil reluctantly placed the keys in his hand and moved to sit in the passenger seat. Malcolm ran around the side of the LeMans and slid into the front seat, grinning. There was a small scab on his cheek from where he had tried to teach himself to shave.

“So what first?” Gil prompted.

Malcolm waved his hand dismissively. “I get it. Start the engine, put the car out of park--I’ve got this, Gil. Ready?”

Gil crossed himself, and Malcolm smacked him in the arm.

“Stop it!” he shrieked. “We’re going to be fine, it’s just to the ice cream parlour. Besides,” he added, clipping his seat belt, “what could possibly go wrong? I’m fifteen; that’s _totally_ a capable age for driving a car.”

He was not capable.

“No, no, MALCOLM!” Gil shouted as Malcolm jerked the wheel hard to the right. “It’s a stop sign, stop, STOP!”

Malcolm slammed on the brakes and both of them lurched forward with the force. “No, it says it’s my yield!”

Gil was about to object when Malcolm hit the gas pedal and the car was thrown back into drive. He gestured to the street and looked back at Gil. “There’s no one here, anyway!”

They veered into the opposite lane and an incoming car honked their horn loudly. Malcolm scrambled to right the car, and Gil leaned over to grab the wheel.

“Gil, I'm driving!” Malcolm protested.

“Eyes on the--EYES ON THE ROAD! SLOW DOWN!” Gil shouted.

“Okay, okay! Look, I’ll slow--NO, I’M NOT SLOWING, NOT SLOWING!”

“ _WRONG PEDAL!_ ”

“ _I KNOW!_ ”

The LeMans shot along at sixty miles an hour, swerving every five seconds, and the people on the sidewalk stopped to watch Gil and Malcolm scream at each other as they drove. Finally, Malcolm slowed to a stop outside the ice cream shop and put the car in reverse.

“No, no, no, _no_ ,” Gil exclaimed hurriedly, pressing his palm to Malcolm’s chest. “You are _not_ parking this car. Get out.”

Malcolm grinned sheepishly. “That went pretty well,” he said.

“You are _so_ lucky no one pulled us over,” Gil huffed. “I think I would have gotten demoted if someone saw us.”

Malcolm snorted, then opened the car door. “I’ll get our cones.” 

“Fine. But you’re paying.”

* * *

Half-raising Malcolm came with its own demons. Gil was fully aware of this, but it seemed that every time Malcolm came to their door with something new in his life, they were unprepared. Like a date, for example.

“It’s not a date,” Malcolm muttered, looking down at his feet. “I just need a ride to the library.”

Gil raised his eyebrows. “Who’s at the library?” he asked.

“She’s no one,” Malcolm insisted.

“Oh, it’s a _she_ , hm?”

“Shut up, Gil. Can we go, please?”

Gil cupped his hand around his mouth and tipped his head up. “Hey, I’m taking Malcolm to go on a date!” he called up the stairs.

A crash. Then: “A _date?_ Malcolm’s going on a _date?_ ”

Before Malcolm could reply, Jackie hurried down the stairs, sliding across the floor in her socks. She stopped to catch her breath, mouth twisted in a mischievous grin. “Who is she?”

“It’s nothing,” Malcolm grumbled, eyes on the ground. “Just coffee and studying.”

“ _Coffee_ and _studying_ ,” Jackie echoed, slapping him playfully on the shoulder.

Malcolm blushed. “Actually, I think I’m going to walk.”

Gil steered him out the door, shaking his head. “Alright, we’ll stop. Come on.”

“Go get it, tiger!” Jackie shouted. “Use protection!”

Malcolm buried his face in his hands and hurried to the car, slamming the door shut. Jackie and Gil exchanged a warm glance before the LeMans rolled away.

A few hours later, the doorbell rang, and Jackie flung open the door excitedly. Her smile faltered, however, when she saw what greeted her at the door.

On the porch was Malcolm, looking miserable. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, and his papers were in his hands, backpack nowhere to be seen. The most concerning thing, however, was the red mark plastered on his cheek.

“Hot damn,” was all Jackie said.

Malcolm sighed. “I didn’t exactly ‘get it’,” he mumbled.

“What happened?” Gil asked.

Malcolm swallowed. “She...wasn’t really into me.”

“How come?” Jackie prompted.

“Short version? Her boyfriend’s not a fan of my father.”

“Ah,” Gil said.

Malcolm ducked his head and sniffled, and Jackie leaned forward to wrap her arms around him. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “She’s just a bitch, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Gil piped up awkwardly.

“I dunno,” Malcolm said softly. “Maybe she was right.”

Jackie leaned back and stared at him, shocked. “Right about what?”

Without replying, Malcolm wrestled out of her hug and turned around, leaving the house and closing the door behind him. Jackie started up to follow him, but Gil held out his hand--let him be. With a defeated sigh, Jackie crossed her arms and watched him go through the window, wishing there was something she could do.

* * *

Jackie got sicker, and there was nothing he could do about it. Gil wasn’t sure how Malcolm would take the news, but surprisingly, it went better than expected. Jessica let him accompany Jackie to doctor’s appointments, and it seemed good for him. For both of them.

Or so Gil thought.

He forgot the fact that cancer or no cancer, Jackie and Malcolm were partners in crime, and Gil always had to deal with whatever shenanigans they put themselves up to.

“I need some help here,” Jackie called when the door swung open one night.

A stab of worry tugged deep in Gil’s gut, and for a moment he wondered if something was wrong. But when he got to the door, he just stopped. And stared.

Malcolm looked like death. His shoulders drooped, head bowed forward. One of his arms was slung over Jackie’s shoulder, and good thing too, because he looked like his legs would give out any minute.

“Is he…?” Gil asked.

“Absolutely _wasted,_ ” Jackie confirmed.

Gil ran a hand over his face. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t expect things to end like this!” Jackie insisted sheepishly. “I gave him some...it doesn’t matter. What does matter is how the _hell_ we’re going to tell Jessica that we got her son drunk!”

“Don’ tell Jess,” Malcolm slurred, putting a finger to his lips. “ _Shhhh_. Meds and drink are bad, plus, m’not even twenty-one...yet...no. I'm...twenty-four! Never did this before. You’re a cop. We in trouble?”

“You are _so_ in trouble,” Gil grumbled, taking Malcolm’s other arm and hauling him to the couch.

Jackie sat down next to Malcolm and whispered in his ear.

“What?” Gil asked.

Malcolm grinned. “She said y’re a _buzzzzzzkill_ ,” he said. The dopey look on his face vanished abruptly, however, because his face contorted into an expression Gil was too familiar with for comfort.

“Oh, shit,” Jackie groaned, scooting away from Malcolm as he bent over and swallowed convulsively. “Gil, take him.”

“Why me? You’re the one that did this,” Gil protested.

“You’re a guy!”

“How does that have _anything_ to do with--”

“--just please, Gil--”

“--alright, _fine,_ but you owe me. Call Jess, tell her Malcolm’s staying the night or something.”

“Do you really think she’d care if Malcolm was drinking, though?”

“The hell do I know about that family? Just let me handle him and tell her whatever you want.”

Malcolm ended up spending the night on the Arroyos’ couch, sweating profusely and gagging every ten minutes. He was right--the alcohol had interacted with his medication. Gil and Jackie took turns watching him, but ironically, Malcolm didn't have any night terrors, despite Jessica’s warnings.

In the morning, Malcolm was a mess. Jackie felt terrible, but Gil was slightly amused.

“Toast?” he offered, holding out a plate.

Malcolm looked up and squinted against the light, before promptly doubling over to dry heave into his knees.

“Or not,” Jackie said.

“What happened last night?” Malcolm asked, once he regained his equilibrium.

“Um…” Jackie struggled to find the right words. “I got you completely trashed. And you said you wanted to be a bird before throwing up in the parking lot.”

Malcolm furrowed his brow. “I did?”

“Yeah,” Jackie admitted, “but it was kind of cute.”

Malcolm frowned. “Oh.”

Jackie nodded. “Feeling better, though?”

Malcolm licked his lips. “Moderate.”

“Makes sense. I’ll drive you home--we told Jessica that you got sick and wanted to sleep over.”

“I will keep that in mind. What sickness?”

“Uh, I dunno. The flu.”

“Right, then. Do you think throwing up again will convince her?”

“Ugh, no, Malcolm. Just act sickly and get in the car.”

* * *

And just like that, Jackie was gone. Just like that, Gil’s entire life was snatched from him in a split second. He didn’t think it could get any worse.

Until it did.

Malcolm and Jackie were partners in crime, after all. And Gil was so wrapped up in his own grief that he didn’t notice that Malcolm was spiraling.

He got a text one day, just two words: _Need help._

And everything that could have gone wrong did.

Gil ran three red lights on the way to the hospital. He gripped the steering wheel tightly and glanced to the side every five seconds, where Malcolm leaned against the window, sobbing, half-lucid and muttering apologies over and over.

Gil called Jessica in the waiting room, and she met him there ten minutes later. Her eyes were red. “Where is he?”

“They’re pumping his stomach,” Gil mumbled at the floor.

Jessica put her face in her hands and exhaled shakily, and Gil started forward. 

But then she took a step back, arm out as if to fend him off. Gil was confused.

“Stop,” Jessica said, voice low and shaky. “I’m sorry, Gil. You can go now.”

“Go?” Gil scoffed. “I’m not leaving the kid.”

“He’s not your son,” Jessica hissed.

Gil didn’t know what to say, before he could say anything at all, a nurse walked over to them, clad in scrubs and holding a clipboard. “Family of Malcolm Bright?”

“Whitly,” Jessica corrected him. “Malcolm Whitly. And I’m his mother.”

The two of them left the waiting room and turned a corner down the hall, but Gil didn’t follow them. He stood where he was for a moment, fighting back tears, before turning around and walking slowly back to the parking lot. He sat in the car but didn’t turn it on, and instead leaned forward and pressed his face on the steering wheel. The car horn screamed for a long time, until Gil raised himself back up and reclined his chair.

Jessica was right--Malcolm wasn’t his son. But he was the only family Gil had left.

* * *

Hiring Malcolm as an NYPD consultant was the best and worst decision of Gil’s life. He wondered what led to Malcolm getting fired by the FBI, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the case at hand: a copycat. It was, admittedly, the original reason he asked Malcolm to work with them, and he felt horrible about it. He knew that Malcolm spent his free time researching his father, and using that trauma against him made Gil feel disgusted with himself, even though both of them knew Malcolm would be able to effectively profile their killer because of this knowledge.

The case didn’t end how he had hoped. Sure, they were able to arrest Carter Burkhead before anyone else could be killed, but at a cost--Gil gained more grey hairs from this case then he did over twenty years. He would be lying if he said most of them weren’t caused by Malcolm.

Gil was also pretty sure JT gained a few grey hairs of his own.

“The _Surgeon’s son?_ ” he scoffed. “ _Gil._ You know I love you, man, but this is a step too far.”

“Gil, who is he?” Dani asked softly. “Who is he to you?”

Gil took in a deep breath. “I worked the Upper East side a while ago, not too far from here,” he explained. “One night, we get a call--some kid, a prank. They sent me to sort it out, apologize to the owners and all that. And the doctor who lived there couldn’t figure out who made the call…”

“ _Tonight, the serial killer known as ‘The Surgeon’ may finally be behind bars. The NYPD has arrested Dr. Martin Whitly in connection to at least twenty-three murders…”_

 _Gil crouched down in front of Malcolm, who hadn’t moved since his father had been led out the door. The kid turned to look at him, and Gil knew there had to be a thousand things going on in his head--a thousand things were going on in_ his _head--but he didn't speak._

 _Gil didn’t know what to do—did anyone know what to do in this situation?He couldn’t just go; the kid was clearly struggling to come to terms with what just happened. Gil had to think of something,_ anything _, if only to tell Malcolm...what? Not to be scared? Thank you? Good luck?_

 _All he could come up with was: “You’re a real hero. Don’t you ever forget that.”_ _It wasn’t much, but somehow it felt right._

_Malcolm nodded, eyes soft and plaintive. Gil felt his heart break--the kid would have a long, hard road ahead that he didn’t deserve. He pulled a small green candy from his pocket and held it out for him._

Malcolm walked over to the three of them, cheeks puffed and tongue working around something in his mouth. Gil gave him a small smile.

“Still into those candies?” he asked.

Malcolm nodded. His voice was abnormally quiet: “I could use a ride home, if you’re willing.”

Gil gave JT and Dani a final glance. They both nodded, and he turned back and rubbed Malcolm’s shoulder. 

“Let’s go, then.”

* * *

The LeMans was wrecked, there was nothing they could do, and Gil was devastated.

Malcolm swallowed, helpless. “Are you sure you can’t…?”

“Sorry, pal,” the mechanic shrugged. “This thing’s smashed. Did you drop a bomb on it or something?”

Malcolm sighed. “Something like that.”

“It’s a sweet ride, too,” the mechanic added sadly. “Car like this has got a lot of history.”

“It sure does,” Gil agreed.

He and Malcolm turned and left, heads bowed in mourning. After they made it a few meters, Malcolm spoke up: “I’m really sorry, Gil.”

“You should be,” Gil replied, but the joke didn’t land. Malcolm ducked his head, eyes welling up.

“Shit, I didn’t mean it like that,” Gil said hurriedly. “It’s a joke, Bright.”

Malcolm wiped at his eyes and nodded, bottom lip trembling. Gil stopped and moved in front of Malcolm, hands on his shoulders.

“Kid, look at me,” he said softly. “The car doesn’t matter.”

“It was your car,” Malcolm whimpered, “Jackie’s car. You had such great memories in it.”

“I had great memories with _you,_ ” Gil corrected him, “and Jackie. The car has nothing to do with it.”

Malcolm sighed. “I’m just really sorry.”

“I know, kid.” Gil brought him in for a quick hug before continuing down the sidewalk. “Let’s go home. I’ll call you an Uber.”

Malcolm hesitated.

“What?”

“Actually,” Malcolm said slowly, “could I stay with you tonight?”

“Sure, son.”

Gil regretted it as soon as he said it. He bit his lip, waiting for Malcolm to flinch, for his hands to shake, for a negative reaction.

But instead, all he got was a smile.

“Thank you, Gil,” Malcolm murmured, “for the memories.”

Gil pat him on the back. “Thank you, too, kid.”

They walked home together.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the pain but not really
> 
> especially you sab


End file.
